


The Fighter

by HisPrettyUniverse



Series: WinterCrown [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:07:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisPrettyUniverse/pseuds/HisPrettyUniverse
Summary: As a warrior Rydyns was a powerful fighter, no one could control him not even his homeland.  He was brave, strong and a good captain of the guard. A proud young Dalbic with no fear.But as a slave? He was weak, fragile and guilty, he could barely look anyone in the eyes.What will he become now that he has been set free?The one he was born to be, or the one he was beaten to be?





	1. Green Mountain Inn

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of my new story, I hope you enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: Not all dialogue or settings are exactly like the movies or books.
> 
> **********  
> I'll be updating/fixing/adding more to chapters throughout the story but I will give you a heads up in the notes if I've changed anything major(UNLIKELY) or if I've just made the story a little easier on the eyes!  
> This is because on my writing program it looks like a lot but then I upload here and it's literally half a page on the site so I feel the need to make it longer!

 They’d been traveling for a fortnight. Thorin Oakenshield and his company of twelve dwarves(Not counting himself), a hobbit and a wizard were already tired of the beds of ground, the already stale food and the lack of good weather. They were nearly dead on their feet the ground was so hard. Their supply was already almost out and their moods were grim due to the constant rain. Even their pipes did them little cheer as their adventure to take back Erebor only just began. Though they had their eyes set on their homeland and the piles of gold within they seldom sang or cheered about it. The dwarves knew this would be a hard journey, as the Lonely Mountain was almost a world away, but they couldn’t help but already feel tired and wished to just magically appear at the foot of the mighty mountain.

   Bilbo Baggins -a cheerful but proper Hobbit-, was extremely uncomfortable and felt very out of place. This hobbit may have been adventurous as a youngling but he was older, he was used to certain things. Like a proper place to relieve himself. He was just as cranky and grumpy as  bring a cloak along -he’d run out the door quite unexpectedly and had left it on one of the pegs near the door, alongside his handkerchief- he was soaking wet, red coat now a wine colour and his dirty blond hair no longer curly and constantly dripping water in his eyes.

   “Mister Gandalf!” A white-haired dwarf, Dori, called. “Can’t you do something about this deluge?”

   All the dwarves lifted their heads hoping for a yes, but were sadly disappointed when the old wizard replied, “It will continue to rain until the rain is done, you best look for another wizard if you wish to change the weather the world.”

   The soaked hobbit raised his head, wiping at the water in his eyes, “Are there?”

   “What?”

   “Are there other wizards?”

   The old grey wizard thoughtfully sighed as he explained, “There are five in fact. Our leader; Saruman the white, then there are the two blues…(You know, I’ve quite forgotten their names) and then there's Radagast the brown.”

   “Is he a great wizard,” The Hobbit wondered, “Or is he more like you?”

   Gandalf huffed in annoyance and grumbled, “I think he’s a great wizard, though he prefers the company of animals to people.”

   The dwarves lost interest as Gandalf and their burglar talked about magic and wizards. As their minds turned to the muddy road ahead and controlling their ponies in the terrain.

   Thorin Oakenshield was leading the company through the horrible weather, his mind on getting somewhere dry and making sure to avoid all the deep mud. His face grim under his dark blue hood he let himself wonder in his head, thinking of why he’d let a weak hobbit become his burglar and why he left Gandalf to choose the fourteenth member. He looked over his shoulder at his company, noting the distress and grumbles of annoyance among his dwarves.

   ‘Somewhere dry’ he thought, ‘There has to someplace dry around here’

   His pony gave a small whine of shock as it tripped in the mud and he jolted forward, the thought got louder in his head as the brown pony steadied itself and walked slower, being more cautious of its steps.

   “Can we camp soon, Thorin?” Called another dwarf, “This rain has made us all weary and grim!”

   “We keep moving until we find a city or a dry place,” Ordered the king.

   ‘Right as we find it I shall lay near a fire and sleep until the weather is better for this journey!’ He complained, his bones ached and his mood was dampening as fast as his clothes were.

   “Thorin, up ahead!” Called Fili, his eldest nephew, his heir.

The black, silver-streaked haired king looked up, peering through the mist and saw his prayers of a dry place was answered as a small barricade around a town slowly became clearer.

   ‘Thank, Durin!’ He inwardly cheered.

   “Thank Mahal!” The other dwarves groaned in relief.

   The company immediately cheered up, knowing a warm bed was just within their reach. Rushing for the entrance to the town their rides sped up and within a couple minutes, they were knocking on the gates to get in.

   “Who goes there?” An old man croaks through a small slot in the large wood barricade.

   “We seek shelter from the poor weather!” Answers the pointy hat wearing wizard.

   The old guard mumbles to himself and lets them through, opening the gates at an agonizing pace for the dwarves, hobbit and wizard.

   The town was a fair size. It had several trade buildings and shops, stands that were currently vacated because of the rain and much to the dwarves relief, an Inn. ‘Green Mountain Inn’ owned by Master Barlan who welcomed the weary adventurers in with a cheerful smile almost entirely hidden by his curly beard.

   “Good food, best beers and the softest beds we have!” He calls to the large group, leading them towards a table.

   Realising the table wouldn’t hold all of the tired, hungry travelers he pushed two more tables and gathered more chairs around, making as much room as he could.

   Sinking into their chairs the dwarves sighed in pleasure as the barmaid and Master Barlan bring beers to the large table.

   “You be staying the night?” The Innkeeper passes pints around.

   “Aye, five rooms should do!” Gandalf nods, claiming three dwarves to each room.

   The Innkeeper nods in agreement and went back to the bar, cheering with the townsfolk as they drank away the sorrows of rain. There stood many men, mostly shopkeepers and farmers drinking and talking with each other about the days gathers and complaining of the crops and gardens. Other’s were travelers making their way.

One patron at the bar caught the eye of Thorin Oakenshield as he looked around the inn in curiosity.  He wasn't a man that was for sure but Thorin could not place the creature's race, he was shorter than the men in the room but did not seem to be a Dwarf. The not-man had a fair complexion with greying, curly, blond hair and large eyes that widened when another patron stomped over to him and began to talk animatedly.  

The newcomer seemed to snarl something to the blond and waved his fingers accusingly at Thorin and his company. The fair-faced humanoid's eyes met Thorin's' and sent an apologetic small smile through a blond shorn beard. The leader of the company's eyes narrowed in confusion as the not-man flinched at the words of his companion. Thorin couldn't hear over the crowd of townsfolk but he could tell it was about the company in the inn. 

Soon before he ordered the company to bed the rain cleared. Most of the townsfolk left, going home to their families for supper. But the angry looking man and the humanoid stayed. The angry one's curses grew louder as the crowd dwindled. Though he couldn't hear most of the words the man was saying he caught the gist of the cursing.  
"...those dwarves... kill 'em myself."  
Thorin laid in his bed for a long while afterward without sleep. Fili and Kili sleeping beside him as his mind was drawn to the greying blond stranger and his angry, bald friend. Though, he had a right to be worried.


	2. A Bad Merchant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company has rested well and are ready to venture around the small village and buy supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keld (K-Eel-Duh)  
> Kulir (Coo-Leer)

When the company woke up early the next morning they decided it would be a good idea to stock up on the supplies they lacked. With their bellies full of warm food they headed out of the inn, into the heart of the town.   
The town of Keld was a small town, only a hundred folk lived in the small well-worn houses of old wood and stone. Families of men who had longed retired settled in the town to provide wears and supplies for adventurers making their way.   
Though the town was quite small, the stands of small shops all across the small town littered the streets. Different wooden stands with small jewelry, a stand full of glittering trinkets, another of different foods and another of other supplies. The company set off to separate stands, knowing what they needed and told repeatedly to be wary of their gold, as they -sadly- only had so much.   
The two dwarven princes wandered around the small muddy square, watching the townsfolk sell and barter with one another. The brothers seemed drawn to a particular stand, one that was filled with metal works.   
  
Eomith was a person of a thinner build, he was certainly was with muscle but was not noticeable other than his broad shoulders. His hair was pulled up in a simple messy knot, strays of his greying blond hair blew softly in the faint wind. His eyes a large deep green shade let no emotion shine as his face held a dull, bored look.  
The brothers seemed drawn to his stand in the square, it held multiple stands of food and other things a traveler would want. The slave knew why dwarves would be attracted to his stand, they were fighters, they needed weapons, and his master had them.   
Fili and Kili walked up, dipping their heads politely in greeting and gazed at the metal works on his stand.   
The blond brother, Fili, raised one of the daggers, “How much for this?”   
“Three pieces” Eomith watched as the blond raised a curious eyebrow.  
“Three? They must be good blades.”   
He thought for a moment, thinking back to when he tested one of the blades out, remembering how it couldn’t make it passed the armor of a dummy, but how it could slide through meat easily.  
“Not good for battle against an armored foe, easily carves through prey, though.”   
The blond nodded, setting it down and glancing at the rest of the metal on the blond-haired slave'stand, “How about the arrows?”   
Eomith once again paused and thought back before replying, “Will fly far and hit hard, might not kill but will injure.”  
The brown haired dwarf, Kili, chuckled, “You don't really sell your products well, merchant! You’re supposed to be making me want to buy your crafts, not walk away!” The eyes of the dwarves were shining in amusement.   
Kulir shrugged, “Not my crafts my master’s. I tell the truth, though, don't want anyone actually trying to rely on his make.”   
“You’re an apprentice?”   
“Slave.” The black-haired man -Though he was not of the race- raised his hand and made the dwarves take notice of the large cuffs around his wrist.  
Eomith Aguthkrii was a merchant’s slave, beaten mercilessly, spit on by the town of Keld. His unusual name had immediately drawn attention from the town, and when they had realized he was not a part of the ‘free folk’ they began treating him as he was treated now. He became his master’s worker, treating him as bad as the other folk.   
“Eomith, if they won’t buy send them off, or I’ll gut you like a pig!” As if on cue his master came shouting from the smiths.   
The dwarves eyes widen in shock, dwarves did not have slaves, they paid honestly and gave work to those who needed it, slaves were illegal among dwarves, not among men.   
“You do not work for pay?” The princes questioned.  
The slave debated on lying and reassuring he was treated well but these dwarves actually looked as if they cared. Not a false sense of worry and walking away quickly in silent disgust. Their eyes wide with true concern.   
“I work so I may not be beaten, or starved Master Dwarves.”  
They asked similar questions and the greying blond answered honestly. Until Leya Farwell - a particularly stout woman, sister to Eomith's merchant master- came storming up from her stand, a large stick in hand. Having heard the conversation between the newcomers and her brother’s slave she decided she would punish him as the talk among slaves and free folk was strictly taboo.  
The stone-faced slave did not falter as she walked straight up to him and proceeded to beat him with her weapon.  
“Your talking of things you should not, Creature!” She spits viciously, hitting him in the head with a brutal force.   
The two dwarves, surprised by the woman’s actions immediately tried to stop her only from having large men step away from their stands and push them back. One grabbed Eomith by his hair and threw him into the wall of the square’s well. Smirking wildly when the dull sound of bone hitting stone met the man’s ears.   
The blond-haired slave gasped in pain, stumbling forwards as he tried to stand. Cursing, he spits blood at the man. Crouching low awaiting another attack.  
Fili and Kili gave a shout of protest as the man threw a punch towards the slave. They looked at one another as the merchant’s slave took the fist in the face and doubled over. They ducked under the arms of the men, kicking each in the legs causing them to fall. The two brothers stormed towards the man beating Eomith and easily jumped on him. Sending the man to the ground the dwarves proceeded to punch the man until he was unconscious.  
Now Eomtih knew he could have taken the man down, he was a fighter. His previous master had him fight for him. So the slave did not really need the help of the dwarves, but he appreciated the care.   
The dwarves looked up at the slave with smiles on their faces, proud of their work.   
“Are you okay?” Eomith asked.  
“I feel like we should be asking you,” The oldest, Fili, smiled wide at the slave.   
“Do not worry,” He tapped his head, “ My race was known for our thick skulls.”   
The brothers laughed, rose from their knees, dusted themselves off and bowed to the slave, “Fili and Kili, at your service!”   
He was taken by surprise, no one has offered their service to him in a long time before he was a slave. Which was a very long time. Quite irregular to have now of the free folk offer service to a slave.   
Kulir copied their bow, “Eomith Aguthkrii, at yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd you like this chapter?


	3. Set Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili and Fili have a plan and consult Thorin. Gandalf says something mildly disturbing and Bilbo wants to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! It's been three months since I've last uploaded and I am truly very sorry about it. I would also like to apologize sincerely for the quality of this chapter as it still hasn't been finalized but I felt bad about not uploading so I posted this chapter anyway. I would also like to announce I'll be going back and changing some things with the last two chapters as I have slowly and surely begun fixing the story.  
> I do hope you still enjoy this fast-paced chapter though, tell me what you think of it in the comments! 
> 
> Translations for the language is located at the end of the chapter.

Kílí and Fílí soon left the slave, promising to come back and speak with him again, Kulir was grateful for the talkative brothers as they provided some sort of joy in the dullness of the shop square. He liked the two, they were cheerful and very curious of his newly dull life.  
As soon as they stepped out of the square it seemed the whole town was staring and whispering. Tully, one of the cloth sellers stepped out of his shop to stare wickedly at the smaller folk, his mouth tight in a untrustful way. They immediately ran to the closest of their company when they had spotted them Thorin, Gandalf and Bilbo-They’d been wandering about the farmers near the brothers-. Explaining in quick sentences and lots of gestures the princes got their points across and they all shared gasps of horror and disgust.  
“Quite common among the men in these parts,” Gandalf huffed, “Bandits see the odd folk lost and wandering about and sell them to the folk of small towns like these.”  
Bilbo and the three dwarves shared looks of shock at Gandalf’s calm tone.  
“We have to do something!” Bilbo sputtered, appalled at the men of the town.  
Thorin nodded and turned to his blond and brunet nephews, “Take us to him.”  
They nodded and led them quickly to the stand where Kulir still stood, nodding along as his master yells and spits at him.  
“Who were they?” The master shouts swinging out his hand and connecting it with his slave’s face, “What where are they doing? Was it those dwarves?”  
Kulir interested in his shoes mutters his answer.  
“Louder, creature, louder!” He earns a cuff to his head.  
“No, sir.”  
Kílí and Fílí looked slightly concerned, knowing he was holding his tongue.  
“You’re lying!” The man screams.  
“Yes, sir.”  
The Merchant’s rage only grew more like a wildfire consuming fuel. His face red, eyebrows high on his forehead, and eyes bright like blacksmiths forge. He took it upon himself to raise a piece of metal in the shape of a cylinder. He took it high above him and brought it down once, twice, three times onto the poor slave’s body. Gasps of pain and cries of horror came from Kulir, whimpering and curling to the floor. With an unexplainable anger, the three dwarves and the hobbit stormed to the injured slave. Thorin and the brothers pushed the merchant away and began yelling and shouting, taking his weapon and throwing it as the younger dwarves pushed him down and kept the assaulter there. Bilbo went to the panicking creature, soothing and looking at the wounds carefully.  
Kulir was over by the door, breathing quickly and ragged, his hair thrown in all sorts of directions as he curled up to the door with the small hobbit at his side, persuading the poor slave to breathe and calm down. His eyes wild and filled to the brim with fear and an underlying form of terror.  
When Gandalf finally decided it was high time he went into assessing the damage he found he, in fact, had to help bring a formal and safer way to free the slave. The blond and brunet haired dwarves had the slave’s owner trapped underneath heavy, worn dwarven boots and threatening glares as the once and future king had begun yelling at the man for his misdeeds and horrible treatment of the poor slave.  
“Now,” Gandalf made his presence known with a small shout, “We will handle this with formality! Remove him from the floor, Kili, and away from the house of this man!”  
With a grunt of disagreement, the two brothers kicked the merchant up and had him sit on a small stool by the fire, excusing Ms Farwell to the outdoors with a small threat of bad luck and an unkindly gesture to her as she turned.  
As Gandalf and Thorin sat with the owner of Kulir and spoke with little kindness but proper and formally. Kili, Fili and Bilbo sat with the now silent and calm black haired male.  
Kill gave a kind open smile, “I said we’d come back to see you.”  
The slave gave a weak laugh as he stared blankly at the ground, “I did not think rescuing was part of you coming to talk with me. I was hoping but I thought you would just be judging my merchant abilities.”  
Bilbo gave them a questioning look to which the older one just shrugged and laughed at the face his younger sibling had given.  
“Nah, we wouldn’t leave a nice slave to an unfortunate fate and quite frankly; I think the moment our burglar lay eyes on you, he’d already saved you from this cowardly, lazy man.”  
Kulir, not knowing who their burglar was asked quietly, flinching when the voices from the table rose.  
“He ma’ Sl've ya canna’ take ‘em ‘way from me.” The accent of the seemingly drunk man worsened with his anger.  
The young hobbit flinched with the older slave, “Come, I am sure we do not need to be present for they’re negotiations. We will go outside, air will do you good!”  
The slave nodded, “I must grab my cloak if I am to be freed. It is important to me,” and with the help of the younger dwarves he stood up and walked a couple paces past the three at the table to a small corner of the room where he picked up a large, thick green cloak with an orange tinted trim of wolves fur along the hood.  
The dwarves and the hobbit looked surprised, not only was it odd the slave even was allowed to keep something important to him but the warm looking cloak looked made of rich and fine silk. A slave would have had to steal such a thing to have it.  
“Why is it so important?” Bilbo asks as politely as he could, interested in a story of theft for the evening.  
“’T'was gave to me,” Kulir looked down suddenly. “By my father before he was killed.”  
“You were born a free folk?” Fili spoke up, “You must have been raised in a mighty family for a coat like that!”  
The slave’s eyes bore into the purple sky, shining with a pain, burning with hurt and memory. “I was.”  
Seeing the haunted look in Bilbo’s new friend’s face he nudged the blond dwarf and sent a cautious look that signalled the young one to drop the topic.  
“I never introduced myself!” The ever so polite Mister Baggins realized, and turned to face the sad slave with a contagious smile, “Bilbo Baggins, at your service!”  
Kulir smiled softly at the young, unburdened halfling and took a sweeping bow, moving his cloak with his arm, “Kulir Wintermourn, at yours!”  
They kept walking around the town, passing the square and the silent houses. They walked passed dead houses and houses that still had people awake and people enjoying the air from their doorsteps, smoking some pipe-weed or nursing a drink.  
Before long Kulir stopped the group for a small moment. He stood rigid and silent as if sensing someone was near. Then suddenly a snarling sound erupted from his mouth, quiet, barely heard. He paused again, then a small reply could be heard from far off, and he smiled. He raised his voice as he did it once more and the other voice chirped closer. The Hobbit and his company were not sure what was going on but went with it as a jingle of metal could be heard along with the chirping sound as it came closer and closer.  
Finally, in the moonlight, the second voice appeared, low to the ground. A large hairless creature was trotting up the path. All its bones could be seen as the skin seemed to be so stretched it would break. Nobs on its back and the joints could be seen moving as it walked to Kulir.  
‘Yolfo, drem yol lok,” He greeted the creature happily in a tongue foreign to the other three who joined him on this walk. “Hi los pruzah geh?”

The creature growled and Kulir’s head met it’s own head, head-butting in greeting. The creature as was revealed to be a wild cat, the size of a large caravan, with thick fur of white and grey alongside what seemed to be an unknown language painted in bright red and blue along its flank. Around the creature's thick neck sat a thick grey collar with three gold pieces and a large silver clasp hanging along it.  
Kulir then brought his attention to his company, “This is another thing my father gave to me. The last one of its kind so it seems, as they were all bred in my lands.”  
The brown haired dwarven prince could no longer hold his tongue as he quickly asked, “What land is that? You are no elf nor of any race, I have met.”  
His cloak seemed to cover him as he cowered back into it. Pausing a moment for stroking the monstrous cat before speaking ever so soft, filled with pain and hurt, with harsh memories. “I was of a powerful race but, I was the only one to survive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation!  
> Yolfo, Drem yol lok ----->"Yolfo, greetings!"  
> “Hi los pruzah geh? -----> How do you fair?


	4. Will be deleted after new chapter is up

I am going to actually start working on this story I promise. But working on this story will require me to basically start the story over again and change it to be more to my standards. I've been wanting to update this story but honestly, I have been embarrassed to work on it, as my writing style changes constantly. I always aim to improve which causes me to hate writing older works of mine. There will be many changes these upcoming weeks as I will be changing a lot (Title and description included). Keep coming back to check.   
But I'll actually start working on it now, just give me some time to fully update the older chapters and the newer ones.   
I hope to get the older chapters fixed by the end of the week.

The forever changing,  
Hisprettyuniverse

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment if I made any mistakes and how you liked it!
> 
> NOTE: Not all translations of the fantasy languages are going to be exact as I am using translators to write them.


End file.
